


There is No Try

by nymja



Series: Do or Do Not [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Just the epilogue to go!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't get to decide who forgives you. Rey, Luke, Kylo Ren, and the final battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is No Try

**Author's Note:**

> THIS ONE IS A BEAST. I want to thank everyone who's been so amazing and has followed me throughout the series. This one's the main event, with the final part (part 10: You Continue) serving as an epilogue.

It’s nearly sunrise, and Rey still hasn’t been able to go back to sleep. She sits on her bed, knees brought up to her chin and arms locked around her legs. Her eyes have been staring at the same spot on the wall for hours.

She feels it, drawing closer and closer. Heavy, but muted. Like the back rhythm of a heartbeat.

_The Dark is coming._

The sun leaks into her room, and Rey unfolds her body. It’s time to start the day.  
  
\--

Luke is a hard person to find on the base, if you don’t know where to look. Rey knows his favorite place on Dantooine, but when he’s not there he’s usually in _The Falcon,_ Leia’s quarters, or his own rooms.

Today he’s in his own. Luke is sitting on the sofa, watching an old holo soap, when he sees her leaning against the frame of his door. His tired, washed-out gaze is enough to let Rey know that he hasn’t been resting either.

“What is it?” She asks, though she knows.

He merely looks at her. He knows she knows.

After a few moments, he pats his hand on the empty space beside him. Rey frowns, but she moves.

She sits next to Luke. They watch old holos. And neither of them talk about what is going to come, whether they want it or not.

\--

It happens a week later.

\--

It’s a quiet day when Leia gives the evacuation order—something to do with the intelligence she received about an incoming First Order assault. Rey’s never been through this before, but it appears the Resistance has. They’re quick and fast, shutting down consoles, wiping data drives. Prepping fighters, loading supplies into transports. Everything around her becomes disassembled and packed—it reminds her of how X’us’R’iia would blow everything on Jakku away, or hide it underneath the sands—everything around her is a storm of motion.

She does what she can to help. Poe enlisted her earlier with helping prep the X-Wings, a task she was only too happy to do because it meant _not thinking._ And not thinking meant not listening to anything but the multitool in her hand or the sounds of diagnostics being run. Rey’s at it for hours—fueling, repairing, running systems checks. It’s not until she hears the fighters start that she realizes how quick _evacuation_ is.

“Almost time to go! You know where Luke is?” Poe shouts over the drowning noise of the engines, tossing a container of rations into a fighter.

She doesn’t.  
But she knows where to look.

\--

Dantooine is a place strong in the Force. And it’s impossible to ignore.

She feels it all around her, lets it guide her as she leaves the base. The sun is bright in the distance of the plains—warm but soft, softer than Rey could ever imagine the sun ever being after growing up in the desert. The grass rustles, parting around her in soft ripples, and she hears the whispers in the motion. They remind her of the whispers of Ahch-To, lonely and sticking to all the edges—eager for life after having been abandoned for so long.

Rey likes it here. It doesn’t feel like home, exactly, but it’s something close. It’s Luke. And Leia. And Finn and Poe, BB-8 and Chewbacca. It’s the first time they’ve all been together, and because of that she doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to think about the next time she’ll get to see all of her important people in one place. It’s the waves of tall grass, reminding her of the tides. The sun framing the leaves in orange edges. It’s the echoes of old advice long ignored.

She walks across the plains, until she sees her destination on the edge of the horizon. In her mind, Rey pictures it as she imagines it used to be: wizened, curling trees and gentle fountains. Towering stone walls stained with stubborn moss. Some of it’s still the same—there are still trees and there are still curtains of stubborn moss. But the stone walls don’t tower, and the base of the fountains have long been cracked in half. Her feet absently kick against smaller pieces of rubble as Rey advances to the half-dilapidated doors.

Luke calls it the Enclave. She understands why he’s drawn to it.

Like Ahch-To, Dantooine is full of ghosts.

\--

He’s in his usual spot.

The courtyard (or maybe it used to be something else, before the ceiling caved in), is dim orange in color, toned with the sinking sun. He’s meditating, back to her and his body a few inches above the ground. In front of them stands what Rey fancies to be a series of garden statues—tall, stone pillars no longer housing flowers on top of deep, stone basins no longer flowing with water. It’s a few, quick steps up a short staircase before she stands behind him. Rey waits until she sees his body lower to the ground to speak.

“Almost time to go.” She keeps her tone carefully light, hazel eyes trained on his back.

He doesn’t turn around.

Rey jams her hands into her pockets. Absently begins to kick a rock between her feet so she doesn’t have to think about why her throat feels tighter. “They’re waiting on you.”

She watches, as his shoulders rise. Hold. Then fall. His body is slow when he unfolds himself from the meditative position. Sluggish. Luke finally stands, and turns to her. She’d just gotten used to him without his hood, seeing it again makes her hesitant as she remembers some of their first months together.

_What happened here?  
What happens everywhere._

She meets his eyes, and her feet stop kicking at the rock when she sees they are red.

“You know,” is all Luke says, voice soft. “You’ve felt it.”

Rey bites down hard on her lip, feels her eyes stinging. Wordlessly, she nods.

He takes a step forward, and without direction Rey runs into his arms. He holds her—mechanical arm around her back and organic hand cradling her head.

“…then you know I’m not going with you,” he whispers.

Rey squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ll stay.” Her fingers bunch in his tunic. “We’ll do it together.”

“Not this time.”

Anger leaks into her words, and she doesn’t try to stop it. “Why not?”

“Do you remember leaving Ahch-To?”

“…Yes.”

“To face him. Back on Jakku. You could’ve been killed.”

Rey takes a step back, if only to look at the ground. Her arms fall limply to her sides, and she knows where this is going.

Luke’s hand rests on her shoulder. “Rey, you can’t protect me from my past. Not forever.” He looks up, at the fallen ceiling, the inky sky starting to creep into view. “Ben is my responsibility, not yours.”

“What about Leia?”

“We talked.”

Those two syllables fall like stones between them. Rey recalls Leia’s expression as they prepared the evacuation, the rigid set of her shoulders. Everything is unravelling before her as the past comes to claim the present.

She closes her eyes. _Listens._ “The Dark is coming.”

Luke’s hand slips from her. “I know.”

She looks at him, and this time she can hear the tears in her voice. “I’m not leaving you behind, Luke.”

“You have to.”

“ _Why._ ”

“Because, if I fail…” he turns from the sky, giving her a smile that breaks her heart. “Someone needs to keep the Light alive. To train the next generation.” Luke leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I wouldn’t have anyone else rebuild, Rey.”

Her chin trembles, tears running freely down her face. “I don’t want to do it without you.”

His mouth grins with a slow pull. “You won’t ever have to.”

She sobs, breath hitched and straining.

Luke pulls her close once again. “Remember what you saw in the ruins.”

She doesn’t think he’s talking about Ahch-To.

Rey holds him like a lifeline, like he’s sand already shifting out from under her. Her mind goes to Han, to the jungle, to the lonely hut in the desert.

“I’ll be there when you get back,” she manages.

He makes a noise, dry and short—a laugh. The first one she’s ever heard from him. “I’ll see you soon.”

Then he holds her, until they both sense that it’s time for her to go.

“I love you,” she tells him, because she’s never gotten to tell it to anyone before and she thinks he should know.

“I love you too,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing anyone’s ever said in the whole galaxy.

\--

The walk back through the grass is done in a haze. Rey wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, watches the stars as she makes her slow way to the base. In the sky, she sees red engine lights from the first departing evac transports, and then her mind _pulls_ just a second before she imagines lights from something else. A shuttle. Heavy in the air and in her chest, she feels _him_ approaching—entering her atmosphere. Coming for Luke.

Dantooine, she thinks, is full of ghosts.

\--

The first person she sees back at the Resistance base is Leia. The older woman says nothing, merely pulls her into another hug that has Rey in fresh tears.

“He’ll be back,” Leia says with utter conviction. “He always comes back if we’re there to find them.”

It’s the only words the General has time to say, before Statura pulls her aside and whispers something in her ear. Her intelligent, brown eyes land on Rey. “First Order forces are starting to form a blockade outside the atmosphere. It’s time to go.”

Rey doesn’t say anything. Just bites her lip. Leia takes her hand, and steers her toward the docking bay.

“Finn and the others have already boarded.”

She manages a nod. The last two evac freighters come into view. Rey stares at them, and sees Finn step out of the one on the left and walk toward her.

“I was worried about you,” he says kindly.

“Sorry,” she whispers genuinely.

“Where’s Luke?”

Rey takes a rattling breath.

“…you okay?” Finn asks, perceptive as ever.

She shakes her head. Finn and Leia must share a look, because before Rey knows it Finn is lightly grabbing her hand and leading her to the evac. Rey turns, watching as Leia makes her way to the opposite one—her chin held up, her back straight. Regal. Suffering. Rey’s throat runs dry.

_Her fingers drift over the tally marks, etched into the metal inside of Luke’s old X-Wing. Dozens of them. Hundreds._

It _pulls_ again. The darkness. And the whispers sound around her, all saying the same thing: _too late, it’s too late._

Rey’s feet pause at the threshold of the freighter. Finn goes in, starting to hook his safety webbing.

_Where are we going?  
…Home._

Her best friend shoots her a questioning look. “Rey?”

_Sometimes what you go back to isn’t a place._

“First Order forces in atmo-!”  
“We gotta _move_ people-“

The engines whir. Rey turns her head, only to find that Leia’s already looking at her. Rey swallows, but the resolve forming in her must be obvious, because the older woman only nods.

_I’m with you, whatever you decide._

“I have to stay,” Rey says softly.

Finn snaps his head toward her. “ _What_?”

“He’s coming for Luke. And Luke’s-“ she grabs her lightsaber out of its holster, wraps her fingers around its hilt. “Luke’s waiting for him at the Enclave.”

“Rey!“

She pivots, resting her hand on his shoulder, much like Luke had done to her only moments ago. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? There’s no way I’m leaving you here-“

“You have to.” Rey’s desperation leaks into her tone. “You have to go and protect Leia. And-“ she takes a moment, breathes through her nose. Finds the calm that inhabits every living thing. “And if something goes wrong, you have to start it over. You and Leia are the only ones who can.”

Finn’s brows furrow. “Start _what_ over? Rey, you’re not making any sense-!”

“Do you trust me?”

He looks at her, pained.

Rey holds his hand for what might be the last time. “Goodbye, my friend.”

Leia’s freighter takes off into the air. Finn’s rises. She holds onto his fingers until she can’t anymore, until they slip away.

“REY!”

And then she _runs._

**_“REY!”_ **

 

  
  
\--  
In the distance, or maybe even in the Force, she hears the sound of a shuttle descending.  
\--

  
  
Luke keeps his chin up.

The hole in the ceiling (or maybe it was once a courtyard) lets him watch as the last Resistance transport leaves. He waits, until he sees it pulled away by its own hyperdrive—a quick punch until it’s gone. A few minutes ago, he looked for Rey in the Force—felt her presence close to Leia’s. And Finn’s.

They’re safe.  
He folds his hands into the sleeves of his robes. And breathes out in relief.  
It won’t be long now.

\--

He hears it land—far too close to the Enclave, the older stones shift with its impact. Luke opens his eyes, watching the entrance with a calm he hasn’t felt in quite some time. His mind drifts to an old memory, one of a young man in the jungle with a reserved demeanor and serious expression. His nephew.

Maybe Leia’s right. Maybe he’s still there.

And if he’s not, he knows that Rey is strong enough to do what he could not—that she will not lose her place in the light, that she’ll help train the next generation. That the values of Ben’s namesake will carry on, even if Luke failed as a teacher the first time.

_The Dark is coming._

Luke watches the entrance of the Enclave.  
And his nephew steps through it.

Ben is dressed in his usual robes, his mask in place. His lightsaber already drawn. It’s all very still for a moment, as Luke looks down from his place at the top of the short steps, and Ben looks up. The only sound is the hissing of his weapon, as the red blade crackles and frayed edges lick at the air.

Luke can see, without even having to use the Force, that his nephew is in pain.

“Where’s the girl?” He asks, voice calm even with the distortion of the modulator. But Luke knows it’s a false calm, a palimpsest—etched over something else.

Luke keeps his arms folded. “You know her name, Ben.”

“And you know that’s not mine, _Master._ ”

Ben swings his lightsaber against the floor. It carves through the old stone, scoring a groove into the rock. Luke doesn’t move or flinch, and when Ben holds the lightsaber up at eye-level, to threaten him with it, he doesn’t back away.

“ _Where is the girl!_ ”

“Safe.”

Everything about Ben seems to tremble—his shoulders hunch in anger, his arms shake with restraint. The grip on his lightsaber seems looser. “You know where she is.” He accuses.

“No,” Luke responds honestly. “And you won’t find her.”

“I’ll kill you!” Ben’s calm is a shattering thing, something born on a fault line. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Luke only watches, sees the shakes running through him. He keeps his hands folded in the sleeves of his robes, his mouth in a thin line. He understands something, now, about old Ben that he never had before. He’s aware of his heartbeats, his slow inhales and exhales. He’s aware of Ben in the Force—a twisted, knotted piece of shrapnel trying to tear.

But Luke Skywalker knows something about the dark, something even his nephew doesn’t: you can come back from it.

He watches as Ben advances, just one first step.

“It’s not too late,” Luke settles on.

“Don’t,” Ben’s voice is sharp underneath the mask. “Patronize me, Skywalker.”

“Uncle,” Luke corrects. “I’m still your uncle-“

“Like Han was my father?”

“-like Leia is still your mother.”

Ben stops. His black-gloved fingers tighten on the hilt of his lightsaber. Luke sees it, that tear, and decides to keep pulling at its edges.

“You can be angry at me, at Han. But you know that Leia has never stopped loving you, Ben.”

“That’s not my name.” He whispers.

Luke swallows. “And if you strike me down today, Leia will keep-“

His nephew swings his lightsaber in quick, violent motions. The fountains—already old and fragile—topple over and strike the ground. The moss makes a hissing sound as the lightsaber cuts through it. There is no noise but the violent outburst of Ben’s rage—thick and serrated.

Luke watches, and once again feels grief. He waits until Ben stops striking, until the calm returns. “You’re hurt, Ben.”

His nephew’s back heaves, angry and violent breaths that seem to go through his spine. When he finally turns to Luke, he keeps his stance hunched. “What do you know of pain, _uncle_.”

Luke closes his eyes. Sees their faces. “Aalto. Dena. Graal.”

There is a pause, as Ben tries to puzzle out why these names sound familiar. Luke keeps going.

“Valaila. Soran. Thalassa. Tare-“

“Your students.” Ben’s voice is flat with the realization.

“Kev. Janara. Max-“

“They were weak. Undeserving.”

“Thudro-Shan. Mjrugo-“

“I did you a favor.”

“Jakib. Dolari-“

“You think this will make a difference? You’re more foolish than I-”

“Ava-“

“Enough, old man.”

“Ben-”

He hears him cross the stretch of the old room, climb the steps in long strides. Luke keeps his eyes closed, and feels rather than sees the cackling blade swinging to stop at his neck.

“ _I said enough!_ ”

“Rey.”

Luke opens his eyes. Ben stands before him, one foot on a higher step than the other, and his arm is extended. The red of his lightsaber catches the edges of his vision, the skin of his neck is lightly burned as it hovers close.

Luke’s stomach turns. He’s not afraid, exactly. But he’s worried—about what will come, about what he has to do.

_You must do what you feel is right, of course._

_Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose._

Luke exhales. _There is no death._

Slowly, he brings up a hand and pulls back his hood. He can’t see Ben’s face behind the mask, but that doesn’t matter—he feels his indecision, his pull toward both the Light and Dark. He knows that, in the end, Luke has only his faith and that will be enough for the paths they all must continue.

“You have a choice to make today,” Luke states. “I’m not going to make it for you.”

The lightsaber hovers closer.

Ben’s free hand slides to the catch underneath his mask. Hope stirs in Luke’s chest, a small and rebellious thing, as Ben pulls the device from his face.

The teenager who left his academy is now a man, one with a scar across his face. And a dark, angry stare meets his own. Luke relaxes—for him, for now, this is over.

“You made them all weak,” Ben growls, leaning forward. “You are what stopped their growth, their potential!” Hatred is apparent in his tone, but Luke wonders who it’s for. “This _has to end._ ”

Luke nods. It does.

“Is that all you have to say?” Ben adjusts his grip. “These are your last words.”

Luke considers. Finally, he says, “You’re loved.”

Ben steps back, stricken. Then his lips pull into a scowl that is not angry, not sad. Troubled. “…love solves nothing.”

“We’ll have to disagree.”

“Goodbye, uncle.”  
“Goodbye, Ben.”

It happens slowly.  
  
Ben pulls back his arm.  
Luke closes his eyes.  
There’s the electric, muted sound of a lightsaber swinging forward.

 

  
\--  
And the familiar voice of his last student, crying out in the darkness:  
“ ** _NO_**!”  
\--

 

 

It happens quickly.

Kylo Ren hears her scream.  
Luke opens his eyes.  
And a blue flash from a lightsaber blade cuts forward, aimed at Kylo Ren’s hand.

It misses, barely, and he backs away just in time for the lightsaber to fly back to its master. He turns, as the hilt finds its place in Rey’s hand. She thumbs it on, spinning her arm until the staff is poised for action behind her back. Her face is set in anger, hazel eyes glaring straight at him.

“Back off!” She spits.

Kylo’s lips twitch into a sneer. “He’s not who I came for.”

Her eyes widen. And before Kylo can say anything else, his Force senses warn him to leap back. He does, just in time to avoid the catch of an emerald green blade.

Kylo snaps his attention back to Luke. The old man stands there, face grim, and lifts his lightsaber to his chest—the green glow of it bisecting his face.

“Back off,” he echoes.

He stands there, a point between two lines. Kylo glances at Rey. Then Luke.

 _There is_ value, _Kylo Ren, to be found in death. There is power. Wisdom comes from loss. Passion comes from_ victory.

“So you’ll fight for _this_ student, then. But not the others.” _Not me._

Luke’s expression does not change.  “There doesn’t have to be a fight.”

“You thought I came here to kill _you,”_ Kylo realizes, amused.

Luke glances quickly at Rey, who is frowning. Waiting. For now, Kylo keeps his attention focused on Luke. Rey, he knows, will come later.

“I was mistaken.”

“It’s not the first time.”

“Come home, Ben.”

That’s enough. Kylo outstretches his hand, using all of his mental will to shove Rey back. She lets out a startled cry, before she is launched off her feet and thrown into one of the old, stone fountains—he doesn’t watch to see her fall to the ground, or to see if she gets back up. He knows both are going to happen. Instead, he _pulls_ again, tearing out part of the ceiling and letting debris fall—a partially constructed wall between them. He knows it won’t hold her. But he only wants Rey delayed long enough for him to deal with her Master.

“Rey!” Luke moves to run, but Kylo swings his lightsaber down, blocking him.

“Kill me, or I kill her.” Kylo doesn’t smile as he goes to repeat Luke's earlier words, his lips pressed together tightly. “You have a choice to make today. I’m not going to make it for you.”

“ _Ben_ -“

“No.” Kylo Ren raises his lightsaber, the red light of it shaking.

He draws back his arm, using the momentum to lift his lightsaber overhead, aiming at Luke's neck.  
The older man blocks with an easy, slow motion, parrying his strike and bringing it back to the floor. The tip of his lightsaber emits sparks against the stone.

Kylo strikes overhead again, and Luke blocks—holding it tightly in place above his head. The lightsabers cackle as they weigh against one another, and Kylo meets the vacant stare of Luke and sneers. The older man _pushes,_ and Kylo stumbles back, catching an edge and stumbling down. He looks up, holding his lightsaber straight up in defense and breathing heavily through his nostrils.

Luke doesn’t move. He only stands there, his green blade humming in the darkness of the former temple.

Kylo slowly stands, muscles tensed and weapon brandished in front of him. Luke is stoic, watching as he advances. Kylo strikes again, faster this time, as he lifts his arms and swings his blade in a circle. Luke parries, the blows Kylo attempts to land merely bouncing off with his short, effortless movements.

“Make up your mind,” he taunts, trying to hide his frustration at Luke’s easy deflections. “Or you won’t have a choice left.”

Luke swings his lightsaber in a quick semicircle, Kylo ducks out of the way—rolling backward and increasing the distance between them.

“There’s so much you still don’t know, Ben.” Luke sounds _sad,_ the inflection enraging him much like Rey’s pity back on Jakku.

“I’m not a child!” He hisses, “I’m not something you can _control_.”

“I never wanted to control you-“

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Rage makes him see red, see the darkness in the corners, in the cracks. “Because it’s going to end. Everything you tried to protect, Luke. It’s _over._ ”

“Don’t worry. I’m still full of surprises.” Luke advances, crackles from their lightsabers echoing as he peppers Kylo Ren with strikes.  Kylo’s breathing rattles, but he turns, blocks, and parries.

Kylo uses the Force to leap up, flying to the top of the short stairway. He pushes, using his height to his advantage and his anger to his strength as Luke is forced back. His uncle staggers, older and weaker and less deserving of Vader’s legacy.

“Your destiny is over!” Kylo cries, jumping and lifting his lightsaber overhead once again in a fast spin. It Luke stops it, but slower this time. He bows to a knee under the weight of it and Kylo hovers over their combatting blades. “You won’t stop it this time—you can’t. You know it.”

“Maybe.” Luke adjusts his hands, gains more leverage in the pushback. “But there’s more than just me out there. Can you do it, Ben? Can you kill everyone?”

“Yes.” His eyes go wide. “I’ll do whatever I have to!”

“Me? Chewbacca? Rey?” Luke grits his teeth, finally breaking the impasse and shoving Kylo Ren back again. “Leia? How many deaths do you need to understand that they didn’t need to happen?”

Luke extends his hand, and Kylo doesn’t have time to react as his lightsaber flies from his grip. He turns, unease filling him as his uncle slowly lowers his arm. His lightsaber disengages, flying against a wall and landing with a dull, tinny sound. “It’s not the dark that makes you strong, Ben.”

“You’re wrong.” His mind goes back to Yavin, to the jungle. The last time he spoke to Luke. “You held me back!”

“For your own good!” Luke’s voice raises. “To help you master your own emotions, until-“

“I don’t want them mastered.” Kylo stretches his hand, and the lightsaber flies back into it. “ _I never did._ ”

The light and the dark rage inside of him, and Kylo lets them. He channels into the discord, the strife, and he lets it fuel his motions. His advances are stronger now, though less control. He hacks and he slashes, without purpose or strategy—he lets the combating motions and swells of the Force dictate his actions—unleashes a fraction of the strife he embodies at Luke.

His uncle defends himself well. He parries, blocks, dodges. But he is not as young as he used to be, and over a decade of isolation has softened his dueling abilities. Kylo watches, manic, as sweat starts to bead on Luke’s brow, as his breathing becomes more labored. He doesn’t relent. He’s stronger, stronger than Luke could ever hope to know or understand.

_Know that your pain is what will center you._

He’s a storm.

“Ben...” Luke pleads with a clenched jaw, as he pushes his lightsaber away again with weaker force.

“Stop holding back!” Kylo growls, slamming his lightsaber down again. Luke rolls out of the way, and it cleaves the tile beneath him.

Enraged, Kylo lifts up his arms grabbing for the stone basins which surround the entrance of the ruins. He rips them from their posts with a gasp, dropping to a knee under their weight as he telekinectically hurls them at Luke—attempting to crush him underneath.

Hatred and desperation fill him as he sees Luke, dodging what he can and cutting through what he cannot. He evades the levitating and hurling ruins with difficulty, but success.

“Attack!” Kylo screams, because that’s what he wants. He wants his uncle to _face_ him, the reality of him and not the spectre, for the first time. To understand that he is not like his family, that he is _different._ Stronger. More powerful. Because that power came at a price, and Kylo wants— _needs_ —to fully understand that the cost was necessary.  
  
And it’s worth it, the pain is all worth it, if it means he can defeat Luke.

Kylo loses control of one of the basins, and it soars into the wall—punching a hole through it and making the room tremble. He instantly lifts up another one with his mind, the pain of it making him see white but he cries out against it and hurls it across the courtyard with all his strength.

Luke tries to stand, too tired to dodge in time-

-but the basin is grabbed by something else, and deflected into a different direction.

Kylo turns to the hole in the wall, glaring at Rey. Her arms are still held up, eyes narrowed in concentration. The image strikes a memory.

_“I’m doing it!” The little girl cries, eyes wide as she lifts her arms into the air. “It’s going!!”  
He pushes himself up into a sitting position. Rey is standing, her hands up high, and a boulder hovers above her-_

“Stay _back_.” Kylo shoves out with the Force. Rey staggers, one foot planted against the ground, but stays up.

“Leave him alone!” She sprints, withdrawing her lightsaber and sliding down to kick Kylo’s legs out from under him.

He leaps back, barely in time to avoid her blade. Rey, he knows, does not have the reservations of his uncle.

“Rey, run!” Luke says, his voice weak but insistent.

She ignores him, swinging upward from the ground with one end of her double-bladed saber to catch him under the chin. Kylo evades it, using the Force to jump farther across the courtyard. He lands behind Luke, meeting Rey’s horrified stare.

He keeps her gaze, making sure she understands his intentions. Then he raises his arm one final time, flinging his uncle into the stone walls with enough strength to kill.

Luke collides against the wall. There’s the snap of bones. Then his body topples to the ground and stays still. Kylo hears her give a far quieter sob than her earlier “no.”

 

\--  
And he makes her an exhausted promise:  
“It’s just you and me now.”  
\--

 

 

 _Luke!_ She screams in her mind. **_LUKE!_**

He doesn’t answer her. Her breath comes in hitches, as she tries to find him in the Force—  
  
But there isn’t time. Kylo Ren advances, a slowness to his pursuit that speaks to fatigue, and he kicks himself up, spinning in order to crash his lightsaber down on top of her head. Rey rolls barely in time, her eyes darting back to Luke, still and motionless and _silent._

“He doesn’t matter anymore!” He swings his lightsaber down, again and again. Heavier and heavier, as if his rage is something that draws its own gravity.

She flips backward, using the Force to enhance her acrobatics as she lands some distance away. Rey’s afraid—her heart beating in palpitations as she keeps turning back to the wall, to Luke—

“You’re distracted,” he spits, as he swings at her. He sounds almost hurt, offended. “ _He’s_ weakening you!”

She blocks, and holds him at an impasse. Outside the temple, she hears a screech that makes her bones cold.

“That’s right,” Kylo Ren’s voice doesn’t sound victorious to her. Instead it sounds scared, frantic. “The First Order is beginning its assault.” He pushes back against her, the lights from their weapons reflected in his dark eyes. “I’ve given the order to level this place.”

Her heart hurts at even the thought—the whispers, the silence. But there’s more pressing matters at the moment. “We’d all die,” she says calmly, though she suspects that doesn’t matter to him.

“Then you’d better kill me fast.” His words are somehow both mocking and pleading. “Or do you still not want to fight me, scavenger?”

Her mind dances: snow, desert. She wraps her fingers tighter against the hilt of her staff. The whispers here are loud, louder than she’s ever heard them before.

“Do it,” he demands, “Avenge your Master.”

_Kylo Ren kneels in the snow before her. “DO IT!”_

Rey kicks out, her boot connecting with his gut, before she uses the momentum to break apart from him.

He gasps, reeling over. Dark eyes flicker up to meet her own.

Rey stares down at him, angry.  
He smiles. “Good.”

There’s the shriek of an ionized cannon, and the shot from the TIE fighter hits the broad side of the Enclave. They both stagger, barely maintaining balance as debris falls from the ceiling.

Rey charges, lifting up one end of her staff in a horizontal arc, spinning as she swings it back down. He ducks under it, heaving his own up to strike at her stomach. She blocks with the other end of her staff, twisting her arms around to maneuver it into an offensive jab.

He moves away, but just barely. He’s tired, sluggish. Whatever energy he spent against Luke has drained him, and Rey presses advantage. She slides both of her hands to one end of her staff and uses it to lift up one edge and slam it down-

He blocks, batting it away. Her lightsaber carves into the floor, she presses it in further, using the hilt and the Force to support her as she kicks up at Kylo’s chin. It connects, and his head snaps back. He stumbles, and she twists her lightsaber so one end moves toward his chest-

_Rey._

The whispers. She pauses, more in shock, but it slows her attack enough for Kylo to avoid it the worst of it. Instead, the strike meant to kill only hits his slide in a slow, carving motion. He screams out in pain, sinking to a knee.

_Kill him. Kill him for Han. Kill him for Luke. Kill him for the others._

Rey stills, her muscles tense. Her hands wrapped on the hilt. She knows these whispers, she’s heard them before—at Starkiller Base, in the vision of her trial. These are not the ghosts she knows, they are angry.

They are the Dark.

She looks at Luke. And she knows, then, that if she fights she will win. She will kill Kylo Ren. And if she does, it will not be because she is protecting anyone or defending herself. It will be out of vengeance. Grief. Fear.

His hand presses against the smoking, burning wound that runs from hip to armpit, glaring up at her with hatred.

They’ve been here before, in the snow. In her vision. She tries to suppress the pain she feels when she thinks of Luke, and instead tries to remember his advice.

_Don’t forget the ruins._

She lifts her lightsaber, the blue blade hovers in front of Kylo’s chest.

Another shot from the TIE fighter. Parts of the ceiling fall to the ground. Above her, she can hear chaos—what sounds oddly like a fire fight despite there being no Resistance presence on the base.

Rey swallows.  
What would Luke do.

 

\--  
“I remember you.”  
\--

 

  
It takes him a moment to understand her words. To realize the weight of them. He looks up, meeting her expression. She’s not like Luke—she’s not calm, tranquil. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her mouth is set into a troubled frown. She does not like whatever confession it is that she’s just made.

Breathing hurts. The tear she made in him is deep—just picked wound from the carrion girl. He sees darkness creeping into his vision, and pounds at his side to keep him conscious. Pain floods white, but it drives the black spots away.

“What,” his breath is a wheeze. “Does that matter.”

“I remember Ben.” The girl keeps her lightsaber pointed at him, less idealistic than his uncle, maybe. “…I remember calling out for him when the temple was under attack.”

He pauses. He cannot support his head, and it falls forward—though he still kneels. His memories from that day are distorted, the edges of them washed out by his amateur attempt to remove them. But he remembers the girl in grey.

“Do you think that makes a difference to me?”

“It makes one to me.”

He manages to look up, through the curtain of sweat-plastered curls. He had miscalculated, over-exerted himself against Luke. And now he paid for it. He doesn’t understand the game she’s playing, but he knows intrinsically that it’s different than Luke’s.

She meets his gaze. He remembers her. The little girl. The tall.  
The tally marks.  
The screams she made as he abandoned her, somehow echoing in a desert.

“Why…” He coughs, blood splitting up on his lip. She’s grazed or hit an organ. “Aren’t you killing me.”

“Because,” her voice cracks. He’s repulsed to see tears in her eyes. “That’s not what Luke wants. That’s not what I’m meant to do.”

“And what are you meant to do.”

“Help.”

Kylo snorts, bending one leg in an attempt to stand. He fails, as it slides out from under him, and he collapses against the ground. The temple shakes again, debris falling around them in larger and large chunks. Soon, he knows, what is left of these ruins will collapse around them.

“The light…is weak.” He braces himself on one of his hands. His inhales are shallow. He hits himself again in order to keep going.

“It’s kept me alive so far,” she whispers.

“Not everyone.”

“…no,” she agrees sadly.

“End it then.” He sags, now having to brace himself on all fours—his fists press against the stone and the wound, twisting. “Kill me and _end it._ ”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and he feels her indecision in the Force. Her desire to stop the pain he causes, the grief she feels for Luke and whatever false memory of home she’s constructed of the temple on Yavin. He lowers his eyes, eager for it to end. Eager for the torment that wracks his body to stop.

Rey’s lightsaber doesn’t plunge into his chest.  
Instead it disengages.  
 She kneels, and her fingers graze his cheek.

“I’m taking you home, Ben.”

“ _Why._ ” He means to sound angry, bitter. Instead, that syllable only sounds like something that can shatter, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Rey swallows, and he sees tears on her cheeks. He bites harshly into his lower lip, eager to _not feel._

“Because…” she starts slowly, her voice not even above a whisper. “You don’t get to decide who forgives you.”

He stares at her, unbelieving.  
Before the darkness fully settles in.

  
  
\--  
Before he collapses, he hears the sound of a shuttle descending.  
\--

 

  
Rey rests on her heels and buries her face in her hands above Kylo Ren. Her chest hurts, everything aching at the compassion she didn’t want to give. She _doesn’t_ want to forgive him—for Luke, for ruining her old life, for leaving her on a desert and hurting Leia. But that’s not how it works. That’s not what it means, to be Jedi. To be Light.

That’s not what compassion is.

_We know._

She cries, and only looks up when she sees a small shuttle descending through the hole in the Enclave. Her eyes widen when she sees its colors—Resistance.

Someone came back for them. Rey searches for them, feeling two familiar sparks. _Leia. Finn._

There’s the sound of more TIE fighters descending in the distance. She needs to move, but can’t.

“You’ll need some help getting him onboard.”

Rey looks up, throat tight and chest tighter, as she sees Luke shuffling toward them. He leans on one side, hand braced against his bad leg, and offers her a small, painful smile.

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know how to tell him—about the fear, the whispers, the thought of him being dead. How badly she still wants to strike Kylo Ren with her lightsaber. But Luke seems to understand.

“Later,” he offers.

With watery eyes, she nods. Rey shifts, grabbing one of Kylo Ren’s arms and pulling it over her shoulder. She looks at Luke, who wordlessly takes his other arm and does the same.

Together, they lift.  
And together, they carry Ben back home.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all can thank ignitesthestars for luke not dying ;)


End file.
